


Car Talk

by ffoulkes_no



Category: The Dresden Files (TV), The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, short-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 17:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15053999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffoulkes_no/pseuds/ffoulkes_no
Summary: Harry and Bob discuss the Blue Beetle.





	Car Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ's dresdenfic comm in 2009.

  
Harry ran a bare hand over the little car's dented roof. It was winter and cold enough to warrant not only gloves but mittens and chemical hand warmers stuffed somewhere inbetween, but Harry let his hand linger on the biting cold steel for a moment. He could feel where the Beetle's paint had splintered from the hit, coming off in brittle threads, and under that, the rough powdery feel of rust attacking the exposed metal. Had that been a hellhound? No, he remembered -- the hellhound was the fender. He pawed at the tear in the rear wheelwell with his boot. Something orange and dry fell down near the tire. Harry kicked it into the street.  
  
In a swirl of black smoke, Bob materialized near the rear of the car. "Was that important?" He asked, looking out at where the rusted bit of carbit had landed.  
  
"No," Harry shrugged, digging his gloves out of his jacket. After he put both on, he gave the torn fender a slight pat. "It just needs a little bodywork, that's all."  
  
Bob screwed up his nose, "So did the Titanic."  
  
"It's not that bad."  
  
"Oh, no," the ghost said, "of course not. This contraption is far too small to ever carry the sheer number of people needed for such a disaster."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "You just don't..." He began, but stopped. He didn't want to argue. He sat down inside the car long enough to coax the old air-cooled engine to life and to shove the bag containing Bob's skull under the passenger seat. Better if it was out of sight. He untangled himself from the Beetle's cramped driver's seat and walked around to the car's rear. Bob followed, curious.  
  
Harry popped the hood. Inside, a remarkably tiny engine sputtered and choked in the cold, the loose fan belt shuddering dangerously between the pulleys. At Bob's disgusted look, Harry put up a hand, placating, "It's just warming up. It runs fine once it's got going."  
  
The ghost looked less than convinced. "It sounds like it's going to fall apart at any moment," Bob said, "and that tubing there, is it supposed to be torn? And leaking?" He reached a pale finger past a spinning pulley to test a small, oozing puddle of fluid.   
  
Harry swatted a hand through his arm, " _Enough._ " The hood slammed closed. Bob pulled away in time to avoid having his manifestation disturbed, though only just. "Okay, I get it. It's old. And I don't take the best care of it--"  
  
Bob opened his mouth to interject.  
  
"-- _but it runs_. It's broken all to hell, but it still runs," Harry finished.  
  
The planned remark withered. Ah. Bob had touched on one of the odd connections that the young wizard often formed with objects. Some things he understood-- the poster of Malcolm Dresden that hung on the wall, the pentagram necklace that had belonged to the boy's mother --because they held memory or power. Others, like the rusting, piecemeal automobile that sat in front of him, made no sense what so ever.  
  
Or hadn't.  
  
Harry was already in the car when Bob looked up to apologize. He was fiddling with a few levers between the seats. He didn't see the ghost run his palm lightly over the car's uneven roof before dissipating back into smoke.


End file.
